


Four Kisses

by deadlydecember1214



Series: The Losers Of ‘89 Were Here [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, KING Stephen - Works
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Endgame, F/M, First Kisses, First Loves, First Times, Hints of Benverly, M/M, Stenbrough, and 15, boys crushing on boys, four kisses, had to happen, hints of reddie, its all kinds of messy, little billverly, some stozier if you take it that way, sorry - Freeform, their 13, then 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlydecember1214/pseuds/deadlydecember1214
Summary: A story of four different kisses between four different people that ends with two boys being a little scared and a lot in love (Aged-Up to High School)Now includes a second follow-up chapter for Bill/Bev closure.





	1. Four Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Because Stenbrough deserves more love and I love my boys so much <3

**_The First Kiss (That started it all…)_ **

It had begun, like so many things, in the summer of ’89. 

Bill and Stanley had always been best friends.

Bill understood him better than most, listening to him and reasoning with him when he had to. There were times were Stan felt like a neon display board before Bill, like the other boy could read every thought in his frantic, nervous brain. There were times where they would look at each other and not have to utter a single word to know what the other was thinking. 

Stan cherished those times.

And Bill would just do things… things he really didn’t need to just because he wanted to. Over time, Stan had come to understand it was just a fundamental part of Bill that he would do anything for a fellow Loser. Still, he found himself a little awestruck by it from time to time.

It was in the summer of ’89, though, that they met Beverly Anne Marsh.

Stan saw the way Bill watched her. 

He saw how the other boy’s jaw would slacken and his mouth would fall open a bit like Beverly was a masterpiece to behold. He saw the way the pair would inch toward each other, would brush the backs of their hands together, would blush and smile at each other like they had some little secret. And for a long time, Stan didn’t understand why Bill and Bev’s interactions lingered in his brain. He couldn’t explain the way his gut twisted when Bill would glance at him only to slip his gaze back to Bev. 

He didn’t really want to think about it too much. It felt... dangerous to dwell on.

Yeah, it started in the summer, just a week after Beverly had moved away from Derry and right before they’d start their last year of middle school. Bill was still moping around, as was Ben. Mike had to help his grandfather with the farm and Eddie had some appointment for an x-ray on his arm. So, Stan had wordlessly let Richie in when the bespectacled boy had shown up on his stoop, just like he had about a million times before.

Richie made his way noisily through the Uris household. Once he reached Stan’s bedroom, he threw himself down on the other boy’s neatly made bed. Stan remained standing, rigid in his posture by the door.

Richie sat up, groaning and resting a hand against his side, “Son of a bitch.”

Stanley rolled his eyes before wordlessly leaving the room. 

He returned a moment later with a glass of water and two capsules of pain reliever. Kicking Richie’s dirty converse with his gleaming shoes, Stan held both out, “Drink up, Trashmouth. It’ll help.”

Richie swallowed the pills after a roll of his eyes, before narrowing his gaze on Stan, “What?”

“What?”

“The fuck you lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Oh, I don’t know because it’s _not_ like you just got your ass handed to you by your mother.” Stan snapped, sarcastically.

Richie’s face broke into an impish grin and he winked, “There he is, Stan the Man, everybody!”

Stan wasn’t a moron, he’d seen the way Richie looked at Eddie — a bit like how Bill looked at Bev. He inspected his orderly fingernails, all the exact same length and filed smooth. His heart pounded in his chest and he began uttering the names of birds under his breath.

Richie’s grin faltered a bit, familiar with the nervous tick, but he managed to keep it in place as he stood up and raised his hands playfully, “No need to have a meltdown over little ole me, Stanley. Breathe.”

“It’s not that,” Stan shook his head, turning away from Richie to begin pacing, “Robin — Sparrow — Crane — it’s something — Swallow — else.”

“O…kay,” Richie hummed, watching his friend wear down the carpet. “Spit it out, Stanny Boy. Can’t be that bad; I already know about you killing Jesus and all that.”

“Beep, beep,” Stan muttered darkly before sighing loudly, “Richie, what- I know you- Can you—“

“Jesus fuck, Stanley!”

“How did you know you liked boys?” Stan finally got out, feeling like he might vomit the moment he managed it. Richie stared at him with a bewildered expression on his face and Stan cleared his throat that felt like it was closing up on him and stopped dead, “I mean, wh-what does it feel like?”

“What does it feel like?” Richie echoed, stunned. “To be into dudes?”

Stan nodded, not meeting the other boy's eyes through his glasses. “That’s what I fucking asked, isn’t it?”

Just like that, the Trashmouth seemed to snap himself out of his shock, his expression curling into his signature smirk of amusement. He rolled his eyes and Stanley contemplated punching him in the throat. Before he could act on this, though, Richie opened his mouth.

“I’m pretty damn sure you know exactly what it’s like, Stan the Man. Or have I just been imagining all the eye fucking you’ve been doing to our poor, innocent Billy Boy?”

Stan was mortified, staring at Richie with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights. 

Holy fuck, was it _that_ obvious?

Richie sighed at Stan’s horrified expression before taking a few slow steps toward the other boy. He raised his hands in mock surrender again and grinned, “Stan, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who notices. Nobody else really thinks about how a guy looks at another guy…”

“But, but I _can’t_ like Bill,” Stan implored, “I _don’t_ like him.”

Richie looked thoughtful for a moment, chewing his lip before suddenly grabbing Stanley. Before Stan could react, Richie kissed him. 

His first kiss…

It was short and quick, nothing like in the movies with fireworks and slow motion. Nothing like how Stan had thought it would be to kiss another boy then again it was _Richie_ and not _Bill_. 

It was always Bill in his head…

When it was over a beat later, Stan began sputtering and Richie cut him off. “Stanley, just listen to me, okay?”

Stan mutely nodded. 

Richie sighed and shrugged before continuing, “Did you feel anything?”

Mouth pressed into a tight, white line and fist clenched, Stan shook his head.

“Me neither,” Richie supplied. “All I could think about was E— um, someone else, wishing I was kissing them. You?”

Stan nodded once again.

“Bill?”

Nod.

“Stanny, you got it bad.” Richie stepped away from him, making his way back toward Stan’s bed.

Stan gulped, “I know about Eddie.”

Richie froze, back still to Stan. A second later, his shoulders slumped and he looked back at his friend, “Yeah, well, I got it pretty bad, too.”

So, Stanley was gay.

And he _really_ liked Bill Denbrough.

And he didn’t have a fucking chance.

 

* * *

**_The Second Kiss (That complicated everything…)_ **

Stanley managed to live with these inevitabilities throughout all eighth grade. 

It’d been pretty easy with Bill still be very much missing Beverly Marsh. He’d spend hours telling Stan, Richie, Eddie, Ben, and Mike about what they talked about on the phone when she did manage to call. Stan knew Bev wrote Bill, too, having caught sight of letters tucked into Bill’s notebooks with her handwriting sprawled across them. 

It was easy to remember Bill was a hopeless case when he had those constant reminders.

High school was different, though. 

Bill hardly ever brought Bev up anymore and when someone — usually Ben — did, he’d just smile and say he missed her before moving along. No more long sighs or forlorn, lovesick looks. Anyone could sense a difference in the dynamic especially Stan, who knew Bill best.

Another change that came with Freshman year was that Stanley found getting his straight As was a bit more difficult. He abhorred English and art most of all because he wasn’t one for interpretation and that seemed to be all those subjects were. He liked the comfort of fact in numbers and equations, like in science and mathematics. 

Luckily, Bill had stepped up to help him once his classic literature grade fell to a C-. 

The boys would spend hours in the library or in one of their bedrooms, pouring over Shakespeare, Hawthorne, and Tolstoy. Bill loved Jules Verne, H.P. Lovecraft, and H.G. Wells, Stan discovered, and he’d read _Frankenstein_ and _Dracula_ three times each, annotating his own copies to hell. 

What Stan loved most of all, though, was when he was really stuck, Bill would read aloud to him. The other boy never once stuttered when uttering the words of long-dead authors and just like that the passage would make sense to Stan. It was good for both of them.

Their almost daily after-school meetings had become the best part of Stan’s routine. Being with Bill and having his full attention for a few hours, that would be enough to pacify him. He’d never have to confront all the swirling confusion in his head over his best friend if he could just keep having those few hours. 

The month before spring break, however, everything got fucked up.

It was dark in Bill’s bedroom, the only light coming from the dim lamp on his bedside table and the setting sun outside the windows. Stan laid back across the foot of his best friend’s bed, staring up at the ceiling without seeing it. His mind wandered as Bill sat up with his back to his headboard, reading aloud from a book of Edgar Allen Poe poetry.

_“His pleasures always turn’d to pain—_

_His naivete to wild desire—_

_His wits to love—his wine to fire,”_

Something had changed in Bill’s voice and he grew quiet. 

Stan turned his head to look at the other boy, eyebrows drawing together. 

His stomach dropped, finding Bill’s bright blue eyes focusing on him intensely as if he’d forgotten the book before him entirely. Electricity buzzed through Stan’s bloodstream and he slowly rose to a sitting position, eyes never leaving Bill’s as the other boy opened his mouth, continuing without even glancing at the words.

_“And so, being young and dipt in folly,_

_I fell in love with melancholy…”_

Stan’s eyes flickered to Bill’s lips as the other boy trailed off and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The air seemed heavy with some raw emotion that Stan couldn’t name for the life of him. His heart pounded in his ears and he leaned forward as if a string was tugging him closer to Bill.

Stan wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Bill Denbrough more in that moment than he’d ever wanted anything in his whole life.

Like he was reading Stan’s mind once again, Bill pushed the book aside and moved forward until his face was inches from Stan’s. 

The curly haired boy took in the scent of him, wanting to commit it to memory so that he’d be able to take it out and revel in it later. Bill smelled how Stan imagined all writers must smell; like paper and ink, book and boy _._ Stanley fell into those piercing blue eyes with his own hooded irises, being pulled under the current of them without a fight.

When Bill spoke it was so quiet that even centimeters apart Stan barely heard him.

“I fell in love with melancholy.”

Then they were kissing. 

Stan gripped Bill’s baseball tee like it was the only thing keeping him from floating far, far away and Bill settled in closer, his fingers tracing the bones of Stan’s rib cage as he felt the rise and fall of the other boy’s lungs. 

They parted for a second, eyes fluttering open to stare at each other before Bill kissed him again. 

Soon, Bill gently pulled Stan on top of him, sprawling them back on the bed. Stan let himself fall onto his elbows and hovered over the other boy. Bill gripped his hips and pulled him down, closer. Without paying any mind to his actions, Stanley slotted his fingers into Bill’s hair and was reminded of the down feathers of birds. 

Bill smiled again his lips, moving his hands to his face and kissing him harder. A moment later, his best friend’s tongue was in his mouth and Stan felt lightheaded. Grape chapstick and spearmint toothpaste were what Bill Denbrough tasted like; Stan had always wondered.

Now he knew… Maybe he had died, or maybe he was dreaming because kissing Bill Denbrough could not be his reality. 

Stanley Uris was not that lucky.

Bill pulled at Stan’s shirt, untucking it and slipping his hands under the hem. As his cool fingers made contact with Stan’s pale skin, a shock went through the boy’s whole body and brought him crashing back to reality.

He was kissing _a boy_.

He was kissing _Bill_.

_—and Bill had untucked his shirt! It would get wrinkled! He would go home and his mother would ask why his shirt was wrinkled and he’d have to tell her! She’d see it on his face! That he’d kissed a—_

Stan jumped up, shoving Bill back, “No! Stop! I—No!”

He tried to correct his shirt but his hands were shaking too badly and his vision was blurring. 

_Ohgodohgodohgod_! 

_FuckFuckFuck!_

Stan’s head was spinning and he thought he might throw up — _what a shame that would be; it’d make all the Bill taste go away._ What the hell had just happened? What— what the fuck was he supposed to do? 

Bill was on his feet in seconds and striving toward him, “W-wait, Stan, p-p-please—!“

He reached out to gently rest a hand on Stanley’s arm, touching Stanley’s skin again. Yelping as if burned, Stan ran into Bill’s dresser and nearly fell to the ground trying to scramble away. 

Bill liked girls— _Stan was gay._

Bill could never like him— _Stan didn’t have a chance._

Bill looked so hurt— _Were those tears in his eyes?_

It couldn’t be, this wasn’t happening.

“Stan, I’m s-s-sorry, okay? I juh-juh-juh—“ Bill seemed stuck on the word and Stan longed to stay put and wait patiently for him to get there eventually but he just couldn’t this time. Not when he would still feel Bill’s hands on his back and taste grapes and spearmint in his mouth.

“You shouldn’t have— You can’t— I can’t—“ Stan clawed up his bag from the ground and bit his cheek hard, looking back at Bill once more before he fled the bedroom. 

Stan hated himself after that, even more than usual. He went gone to school the next day and expected to be confronted, yelled at, or even punched. He _wanted_ to feel Bill’s anger, like a penance for what he’d done. 

He was shit and he deserved to be treated like it.

But, of fucking course, Bill was who he was so none of that happened.

Instead, Bill had greeted him with all the other guys, a smile on his lips. If the smile didn’t reach his eyes, Stan didn’t let himself think about it and he most definitely didn’t comment on it. He didn’t comment either when Bill said he couldn’t tutor him after school that day, or the next, or the next.

Bill didn’t like him. Maybe Bill was curious or maybe he felt bad for Stan, maybe he’d found out how Stan felt. The kiss could have come from a million different things but Bill most definitely didn’t like him.

* * *

**_The Third Kiss (That clarified it all…)_ **

Beverly was coming back to Derry.

Bill couldn’t believe it, honestly. The Losers Club was conditioned to take hits as they came and rarely stumbled into fortune. Beverly coming back, though, that was a fucking miracle.

He’d missed her like crazy. He missed her spirited presence, her easy humor, the way she was always brushing hair off her face and smirking at him like he was the biggest fucking nerd she’d ever met but she still found it endearing. He missed her floral perfume and her mixed wardrobe of dresses, leggings, and overalls always paired with untied work boots that never tripped her.

The first day of spring break, when she’d come strolling up the Denbough’s sidewalk, Bill had thought for a moment that no time had passed at all. Maybe it was still the summer of 1989. Maybe Bev had never left, maybe he’d had never kissed Stan, maybe Stan hadn’t shoved him away, maybe the ache in his chest wasn’t really there.

But, no, that wasn’t how the world worked. Bev coming home didn’t reset the clock.

Beverly ran and hugged Bill first, shrieking in joy as she ran into his waiting arms. 

Bill lifted her right off her feet and spun her through the air. Setting her down gently, Bill ignored the feeling of eyes on his back. He didn’t have to look to know it was Stanley watching them; he could feel it in his chest.

Bev was just as excited to see Ben, Richie, Eddie, Mike, and Stan as she had been Bill. Still, the stuttering boy noticed how Ben’s arms lingered around Bev’s waist then they embraced. When the pair finally parted, Bill also noticed the faintest of pinks spread across Beverly’s freckles

Bill thought he should probably feel jealous.

Fuck, how long had he been hung up on Beverly after she moved away? Months? A year? Now she was back and he was _so happy_ to be around her again but not like he’d been back then. His palms didn’t sweat when she stood close anymore and his heart didn’t skip a beat when her blue eyes glanced his way.

No, Bill’s heart raced for someone else these days… not that it mattered.

Stan had hardly spoken to him seen they’d kissed. He didn’t come over anymore and never invited Bill over. Ben or Eddie helped him with his homework nowadays and something in Bill’s chest burned with anger every time he thought about it.

What right did Stanley have to be angry at him? So what? Bill had kissed him, so fucking what? He’d obviously misread everything between him and Stan; he’d thought something was there that obviously wasn’t but did that really deserve the cold shoulder? The total and complete write off?

Fuck Stanley Uris. 

Bill didn’t need him, could learn to not long for him, would force himself to move forward. He’d done it once already, after all, over his infatuation with Beverly and he’d do it again over Stan. 

Bill could figure this out.

He _could_.

Things took a turn for the stupid on Bev’s last night in town, however. 

Her aunt went a town over to visit a friend, giving her niece permission to stay with one of her friends. Of course, Beverly had asked Bill. The Denbrough house was like Losers Club headquarters; everyone stayed there.

And Bill had said yes because why wouldn’t he? His parents were even out of town for the weekend; he didn’t have to bother with asking their permission if it would be okay. 

That night, Beverly grinned at him, swirling her finger over the rim of one of his father’s whiskey glasses. 

“Thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, Billy?”

He snorted, resting a hand on her’s to still it, “N-no way, Bev. My Dad would notice, t-trust me.” 

Bev pouted, looking downcast at the wooden floors. Bill narrowed his eyes before sighing and taking back the hand on her’s to pinch the bridge of his nose. “B-but, I think I might have su-su-something up i-in my ruh-ruh-room.”

“Your stutter still gets worse when you’re nervous, like when we were kids,” Beverly grinned, “It’s still cute.” She leaned forward to whisper before grasping his hand and leading the way upstairs.

Bill had the good stuff, tequila, one of Beverly’s personal favorites. The bottle started full and within a few hours, it was nearly finished off. 

The pair sat on Bill’s floor, laughing at something that sober Bill and Bev would have known was not that funny but drunk Bill and Bev thought was fucking hilarious. The radio played loudly through the room so that both of them had to raise their voices to be heard by the other.

“So,” Bev started with a giggle after taking an impressive gulp of liquor, “You and Stan…?”

Bill grin fell and he suddenly felt the boards of his bed dig into his back as he sprawled his legs out in front of him, “No. Definitely nothing happening there.”

His stutter always faded away when he was drunk enough, he loved it.

Her eyebrows drew together, “Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Bill reaffirmed, taking the bottle back for another swig, “He—He’s not—It’s not bullshit. Nothing is going on.”

Beverly fell back, growing quiet with a look of confusion. 

The tell-tale strings of ‘Come On, Eileen’ began playing and Bev gasped, jumping to her feet so quickly it was actually quite impressive to behold.

“Oh fuck, I _love_ this song!” She cried, beginning to dance about. Bill watched with an amused curl of his lip, his back to his bed, still on the floor. A second later, Beverly was grabbing at him and dragging him to his feet. “Dance with me!”

Bill set the tequila aside and allowed her to pull him up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, coaxing him into a reluctant sway. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all before resting his hands on her waist. Within seconds, the pair was dancing dizzily around Bill’s bedroom, stepping on each other’s feet and nearly tripping over his rug.

Spinning Beverly, Bill pulled her back into his chest and grinned down at her face, just inches from his own. 

_These people round here_

_Wear beaten-down eyes sunk in smoke-dried faces_

_They're so resigned to what their fate is_

_But not us (no, never)_

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” Beverly mumbled, growing somber as her big blue eyes looked into Bill’s. 

His heart sunk and he swallowed, “But you’re moving back in the summer. You’ll be back before you know it.”

“I don’t want to wait till summer. I miss you,” She said with a sigh, “I miss all of you.”

“We miss you, too,” He admitted, “Saying goodbye is gunna suck.”

Beverly nodded, glancing back with a slight blush before she looked up with a playful smiling, “Remember saying goodbye last time?”

Bill mind flashed to a summertime breeze, the scent of blood in the air, and Beverly’s lips on his. He’d been so swept up in her back then. Her heart, her mind, her everything was just so beautiful… still was.

“Yeah, I remember.”

Beverly slipped her hands from around his neck to his face, cradling his jaw and running her thumbs over his cheekbones. With a little huff of resignation, she leaned in, pulled him in, and kissed him hard. 

Suddenly, Bill felt thirteen again, trying to tell his first crush everything he felt for her in one last goodbye kiss. He wrapped his arms around Beverly, pushing himself flush against her and deepening the searing, tequila flavored kiss.

_No, not us (no, never)_

_We are far too young and clever (remember)_

_Too-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-rye, aye_

_And you'll hum this tune forever_

With a moan, Beverly pushed her tongue into his mouth and he greedily accepted the invitation. Something in the back of his mind screamed out in protest, reminding him of ironed shirts, pristine Adias, and curly brown hair, but he was too drunk on liquor, Beverly, and music to care.

Walking the girl backward, Bill picked her up when they reach his bed and sat her down on the mattress. Quickly tossing his shirt aside, he slotted himself between her legs and ducked his head to kiss down her neck from the ear to the base. Beverly gripped his hair and moaned when he pressed his lips to a certain spot.

“Bill—“ She breathed out, pulling at his hair until he was forced to pull away and meet her gaze. “Are you sure? Nothing has to happen. I’m gone tomorrow.”

“That’s the p-p-point, Bev,” Bill muttered, kissing her again and laying her back on his bed to hover over her, “We’re j-j-just suh-saying goodbye.”

She traced a thumb over his lower lip, “Even drunk, you stutter when you’re nervous,” Bev echoed herself from earlier before nodding, “Okay, Billy, tell me goodbye.”

So, he did.

_Come on Eileen_

_Oh, I swear what he means_

_Aah, come on let's_

_Take off everything_

_That pretty red dress_

_Eileen (tell him yes)_

* * *

**_The Fourth Kiss (The one that finally brought them together.)_ **

“Get the fuck up and put some goddamn clothes on!” Someone yelled, shaking Bill awake.

He startled up and looked blearily on. He found he had a splitting headache and was indeed clothe-less; Richie Tozier of all people was standing in his room, too. 

He squinted away from the sun and groaned, “Wh-what time is it?”

“Time for you to fucking explain some shit,” Richie snapped, throwing boxers and a t-shirt at his friend harder than necessary. “So put your dick away, please.”

After tugging the clothes on, Bill’s brain began to whirl at a sickening pace and he glanced around the bedroom once again. 

“Looking for Bevvie?” Richie asked, quirking an eyebrow. “She already left. A fucking hour ago. That _was_ why I was here, why all the Losers _were_ here; to tell her goodbye until the summer.” Richie explained, sounding more and more angry with each word. “When fucking _Stanley_ asked where the fuck you were, you know what Bevvie said?”

Bill looked away, ears flushing. He could guess…

“She said you two had already said your goodbyes… So, I thought, what the fuck does that mean? And then she got all weird and blush-y and wouldn’t look any of us in the goddamn eye. You know what I thought then, Billy Boy?”

Bill cringed, both at what he knew was next and at Richie’s rising voice.

“I thought, holy shit… _Bill fucked Bev_.”

“Sh-sh-shut up, Richie!” Bill snapped, looking back up at his friend to glare, “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn't like what, Bill? Hmm? You _didn’t_ have sex with Beverly, then?” Richie accused.

Bill fell silent, his whole face now bright red. Richie snorted.

Anger now igniting in his chest as well, “Wh-what’s it to you anyway, Tozier? Wh-what happened has f-fuck all to do with you!”

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Richie looked at him incredulously, “No way you don’t see how fucked up what you did is. Normally, you’re a fucking _moral compress_ , Denbrough, you know you screwed up!”

“Wh-what?” Bill asked, genuinely confused, “With Bev? It was just a goodbye, Richie! She k-knows that! It’s not like s-she’s in love with me!”

“BUT STAN _IS_!” Richie yelled at the top of his lung, slamming a fist down on Bill’s desk. His glasses were knocked askew.

Bill stood stock still, forgetting to breathe for a second. All the emotions, feelings, thoughts he’d been trying to repress ever since Stan’s rejection came crashing into him like a tidal wave. Shakily, his knees gave out. 

Falling back onto his mattress, Bill swallowed hard and shook his head, “B-beep beep, Trashmouth. Y-you have no idea wh-what you’re t-talking about.”

“No, no, you don’t get to fucking ‘beep’ me right now, Billiam!” Richie snapped, putting a finger up.  “I know _exactly_ what I’m talking about! I’m talking about how Stanley told me he had feelings for you almost _two fucking years ago_! I’m talking about how _you_ , not Stan, started up all the flirting and the alone time with him this year! I’m fucking talking about how much a total dick you have got to be to string Stan along, only to _fuck Beverly!_ ”

“I-I-I was-n’t st-stringing him alo-along!” Bill felt like he had no oxygen, making him gasp with each involuntary stutter. It was so fucking infuriating and made him itch to punch _something._

A numbness slowly venturing up from his fingertips to spread across his body. He choked as he tried again to speak, “H-he— He—“

“Shit, this’ll kill him,” Richie grabbed a fist of his own curls and tugged with a groan, “Fuck you, Bill. Fuck you.”

With that Richie left him alone in his bedroom. 

Even after the weekend ended and he’d had so much time to think, Bill had no clue what to do. 

Stan couldn’t have feelings for him, no matter what bullshit Richie said. Bill had given Stan every hint and clue in the book — hell, read him fucking poetry and _kissed_ him — and all he’d gotten was ignorance and rejection. 

If Stan cared about him like he cared about him, why would he push him away at every turn?

But if Stan, somehow, someway, did feel the same as Bill… How the hell would he ever be able to tell him what he’d done?

Days later and sober, Bill could admit that having sex with Beverly hadn’t just been about saying goodbye to a friend and it wasn’t just about losing his virginity and it wasn’t just about being drunk. A part of him, a part he hated with a passion, had wanted…revenge.

He’d wanted to make Stan feel as shitty as he had watching the other boy tear away from him and get as far from him as possible. Having sex with Beverly, in some part, had been about getting back at Stan. It’d been out of spite.

Richie was right, Bill was a total dick. Fuck him.

Still, Bill didn’t completely regret it. He and Beverly had needed that closure, that certainty that nothing could ever happen between them anymore. They were meant for other people.

As he slowly walked to his locker, his locker just two down from Stan’s, he kept his eyes on his grey high-tops as they scuffed across the linoleum. His heart hammered in his chest and he had to make a conscious effort to not crush the paper in his hand. 

Chancing a glance up, Bill came to a sudden halt that resulted in a body slamming into his shoulder from behind and nearly sent him sprawling. He barely noticed.

Stan was at his own locker with the door open, fiddling around with his textbooks until they were neatly ordered from tallest to shortest in size. Wearing a light blue polo and khaki slacks, Bill’s chest twisted at how the mere sight of the other boy could send him reeling. 

Did Stan really have feelings for him, too? How would Bill ever tell him?

Taking a shaky breath, closing his eyes and counting to ten, Bill forced himself forward. Stan looked over as if he could feel Bill’s approaching presence. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he glanced back away, hands jumping back to rearrange his already perfect books. 

_Why does he have to be so damn cute?_

Moving until he was only a few feet away, Bill cleared his throat, “I n-n-need t-t-to talk to yuh-you.”

“Yes!” Stan squawked, turning scarlet at the ears, “I mean, okay, sure… When?”

“Study h-hall?” 

Stan nodded, expecting Bill to leave at that point. Only, he didn’t. He shifted from foot-to-foot before holding out his hand silently. There in his palm sat a piece of paper folded into the shape of a bird. 

Stan stared at it for a long moment before glancing up into Bill’s eyes, “What’s that?”

Bill rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s an or-origami bird.”

“Oh,” Stan mumbled, cheeks flushing as he smiled just a little. Nodding, he carefully took the paper bird. Bill watched as Stan tucked the little thing into his locker, atop his history book. He turned back to Bill, “Thank you for...” He pointed.

Bill nodded, feeling even worse now about telling Stanley the truth. He sighed and started to walk backward, “I’ll suh-see you in study h-hall.”

Stan nodded, closing his locker and heading in the opposite direction. As he walked to class, his mind lingered on the little paper bird taking up residence on his history book. It was the first time Bill had asked to speak to him alone since... the incident. For a split second, Stan let himself hope that was significant and then immediately scolded himself.

He hated himself for hoping.

Study hall was both Bill and Stan’s second period and came more quickly than either of them was prepared for. Before things had gotten so messy and complicated between them, they had met almost every day in the Derry High Library, at the very same table in the far back corner where the librarian rarely bothered to check. 

It was kind of Loser claimed, like the table in the cafeteria by the window where they all ate lunch together. By some miracle, all six boys had the same lunch period. Ben, Mike, and Stan always packed their lunches and Bill and Richie always waited through the line while everyone pretended not to notice how Eddie trailed alongside Richie despite packing his own lunch as well.

The table in the far back corner in the library was a bit like that. Their territory, neutral ground to any Loser... or two Losers who weren’t quite sure how to act around each other anymore.

Stan was waiting for Bill, straightening the pages of his notebook with an intense expression. So neat and orderly, Bill admired that about Stan since he just barely managed to keep his clutter organized enough for himself.

“H-hey,” He greeted, dropping his bag on to the table and slumping into the chair beside Stan.

“Hello,” Stan finally looked up from his notebook, still nervously fiddling with his nails. Meeting Bill’s eyes for a beat, he quickly went about inspecting his hands, “You wanted to talk?”

Bill nodded, trying to think of the right way to lay everything out. 

He didn’t want Stan to run away again, didn’t think he could bear it again, but he was also so tired of keeping everything locked up in his head. He needed a release and to ease the weight on his chest before he exploded.

Half-panicked, he blurted out, “I had s-s-sex with Beverly.”

Stan’s fiddling fingers froze and his head shot up to look at Bill, mouth agape. He blinked and swallowed before slowly breathing out, “Oh,” Forcing in a lungful of air, Stan cleared his throat, “Congratulations, I guess?”

That was what one guy said to another when they scored, right? That was what Bill wanted him to say, right? Because they were friends and normal guys who aren’t in like — or maybe something more — with their best friends would be happy that their buddy had ‘gotten laid’. 

_Be normal, Stan. Just be normal. Ignore how much you want to throw up or cry or scream and just be fucking normal._ He silently chanted, biting the inside of his cheek hard.

Bill sighed and dropped his head into his hand before looking back up at Stanley with a long sigh, “No, not c-con-congratulations! F-f-fuck, I juh-just—“

The boy was obviously flustered and nervous, with how much he was noticeably struggling with his stutter. Stan watched Bill rake a hand through his hair, hair he’d once touched too, with an air of confused. Well, what the fuck did Bill want from him, then? Why the fuck was he even telling him _this_?

“I m-m-messed up.” 

The curly haired boy’s eyebrows drew together, “How? You like Beverly, so—“

“I _don’t._ ” Bill cut off, his voice determined and sure. “Nuh-not like that, at least. The sex made that p-p-pretty clear. I m-messed up because I was with her wh-when I _really_ like someone else.”

“Someone else?” Stan echoed, the pain in his chest growing sharper with each word. First, he’d had to hear about Bill fucking Beverly and now he was going to have to hear about some new girl that Bill liked even more? He didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to hear it... But he was Bill’s _friend._

“I like _you_ ,” Bill admitted, his voice keeping that sure tone as he stared into Stan’s eyes. 

The boy’s breath caught in his throat and he began jerkily shaking his head, “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!”

“You like girls, Bill. You like Bev and you think Heather Listing is hot and you don’t like me!” Stan snapped, standing up from his chair. “It’s not funny, it’s not a joke, so just _stop_!”

Bill stood with him, “No! You don’t know how _I_ f-f-feel! I’m not kidding! B-being with Beverly only m-made me realize once and for all th-that the only person I _really_ want to be with is _you_ , Stan! I k-know you p-probably don’t feel the same and th-that’s—“

_That’s whatever_ , he’d been planning to say. It wasn’t _whatever_ but he wouldn’t burden Stan with feelings he didn’t return. That had been his plan, at least.

But he couldn’t even finish the sentence, hands grasping his face and lips slamming against his. 

Stanley Uris, the most controlled person Bill Denbrough had ever met, was kissing him like his life depended on it in the Derry High Library on what could only be impulse. Bill didn’t care, though, moving closer and gripping the fabric of Stan’s polo in his fists. The weight in his chest lifted and for a moment, being with Stan like he’d always wanted to be, Bill felt more at ease than he’d been in weeks.

Stan was calming, his presence always comforting to Bill like a steady support to fall back on. A best friend but _more_ …

When they pulled apart, Bill waited a few seconds to open his eyes, afraid that once he looked at Stan all he’d see was that same panic from his bedroom. Lids fluttering open, he found only a look of pure anxiety.

“I _do_ feel the same way,” Stan admitted quietly, his breath ghosting over Bill’s face as they were still so close. “I’m just...” He trailed off, looking to the side shamefully.

“S-scared?” Bill supplied.

Stan nodded, flickering his gaze back to Bill’s.

“That’s okay,” The other boy shrugged, “I am, too. We’ll juh-just take it slow.”

“Take our time,” Stan agreed, nodding. “I like that.”

“M-me too. I’ll take all the t-time for you,” Bill reached out, slipping his hand into Stan’s and squeezing.

Stan actually smiled a little, squeezing back before bashfully muttering, “I really like you, Bill Denbrough.”

“I really like you, too, Stan Uris.” Bill replied easily without a single stumble.


	2. You're My Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things might have been different if Beverly hadn’t had to go. Maybe if she and Bill had time to develop whatever they’d felt when they were 13, things would have been different. But honestly, they’re both pretty happy that wasn’t what happened. (Aged-Up to High School)
> 
> AKA: In which Stan is Bill's Always and Ben is Beverly's... But they'll always be each other's Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After what happened between Bev and Bill in ‘Four Kisses’, I figured they had to have a conversation at some point when she moves back that clarifies things and gives them both closure... SO, here ya go.

The fire crackled and teenagers laughed, sitting in a circle around the flame.

The Losers had only two weeks left in their summer break before they’d have to start Sophomore year and were enjoying every moment of freedom they had left together.

Richie had brought his guitar down to the quarry, singing loudly with Beverly any song they could come up with off the top of their heads (that Richie knew how to play, that is). Mike and Ben occasionally joined in for a lyric or two or to clap out the beat. Eddie watched from across the fire, chin in palm and eyes gleaming with admiration while everyone else pretended not to notice.

Eddie and Richie and all the damn looks they gave each other that said so much and yet somehow not enough...

Bill felt warm deep in his chest, down to his toes. Surrounded by his friends, Stan’s head resting on his shoulder as he leaned into his side with a thin blanket wrapped around both of them... it was perfect.

Richie was strumming out the last chorus of ‘Moonshadow’ by Cat Stevens, he, Bev, Ben, and even Mike singing out the words. 

_I’m being followed by a moonshadow,_

_Moonshadow, moonshadow_

Suddenly Eddie joined in with a grin on his face and Bill felt the warmth in his chest intensify as he too opened his mouth to sing and rock back and forth along with his friends. Stan sat up, shooting him a questioning look. He shrugged, leaning forward to sing right in his... whatever-Stan-was's face.

After an eye roll, even the curly haired boy joined in. He kept up an expression of annoyance but Bill saw the glint in his beautiful eyes. It made his heart race.

_A leaping and hopping on a moonshadow_

_Moonshadow, moonshadow_

_Moonshadow, moonshadow_

_Moonshadow, moonshadow_

Falling into peels of laughter, all the teenagers held their sides. They laughed until they were breathless and Richie adjusted his guitar. Quickly, clearing his throat, he started up again with ELO’s ‘Mr. Blue Sky’. 

Mike tapped the drum line out onto the thighs of his jeans, bouncing his feet to match. Ben, Bev, and Eddie sang the higher parts while Bill, Mike, and Stan sang the lower and Richie broke in with a terrible impression of the robotic voice. His failure enticed giggles from the others, but he kept it up with a confident grin always in place.

When that song finished off, Richie began humming in a mock of a familiar string opening. Bill’s eyebrows drew together, shifting on the log he was seated on. Across the way, he saw Beverly blush in the firelight.

Richie started strumming again.

_Come on, Eileen_

_Come on, Eileen_

Bill could hazily remember the taste of tequila in his mouth and Beverly’s skin under the pads of his fingers. Her flowery scent filling up his senses and her giggle echoing through his bedroom, mixing with the song playing from the radio... _This_ song.

Beverly had fallen silent as well, her blue eyes focused on the rock beneath her bare feet. A strange look occupied her face and after a moment she looked up to meet Bill’s gaze. Giving him a half smile, she raised her eyebrows questioningly and nodded her head toward the shoreline.

Understanding, Bill nodded and turned to Stan as Beverly got up from the circle.

“H-hey,” He muttered, close to the other boy’s ear.

Stan didn’t turn his head to look at him, rolling his eyes as the corners of his lips twitched upward, “Hello, Billy.”

The tips of Bill’s ears felt warm hearing the boy beside him use that nickname. Stan wasn’t one much for pet names and rarely used them; when he did though, it made Bill’s chest feel close to bursting.

“I’m g-gunna talk to Bev real qu-quick, okay?” He asked, glancing at the girl behind them. Her red hair gleamed in the moonlight as she looked out at the water.

Stan glanced over his shoulder as well before slowly nodding, “Okay.”

Bill started to get up only to have his wrist grabbed at the last second. Stan looked bashful as he looked up at the other boy, swallowing before he muttered, “Just… come back when you’re done.”

Grinning, Bill glanced around at their friends, who all jumped back to what they’d been doing, pretending they hadn’t just been watching the interaction. Bill sighed and leaned down, kissing Stan’s forehead right where his curls started, “Right back.”

As he made his way to Beverly, Bill slipped his hands into his jeans pockets and drug his feet across the stone. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect from this conversation… he and Bev had never talked up what had happened over spring break. 

Well, Bill had told Stan — of course — and he’d kind of assumed Beverly might have brought it up to Ben with how close the two were getting but _he and Bev_ hadn’t discussed it, one-on-one.

What… What was there really to say?

“Jesus, Bill, calm down, would you?” Bev asked when he was only a few feet behind her. She turned to him with an easy smile, arms crossed over her chest. “I can feel your discomfort from here.”

And just like that the tension in Bill’s chest deflated and he grinned at Beverly, coming to stand beside her, “Sh-shut up, Beverly. You g-got me nervous.”

“Little ole me?” She asked, “Well, I’m flattered — really — but seriously breathe Bill. We’re just talkin’…”

He shrugged, “I k-know that… I’m more nervous a-about what we’re talking a-about.”

Beverly nodded, looking up at the moon so that it reflected in her blue eyes, “I don’t regret it, just so you know.” She dropped her gaze to him, smirking playfully, “The _sex_ , I mean.” She hissed, mocking his scandalized behavior.

“Oh my G-God,” Bill’s face turned bright red and he brought his hands up to cover his face with an awkward chuckle. Letting his hands fall back to his side, he sighed, “S-sorry, n-nerves.”

Bev rolled her eyes, “God, Bill, I actually had hope for your maturity, too.”

He chuckled again and shook his head, “Sorry,” He echoed. “I-I don’t regret it e-either… Just so you k-know.”

“You don’t?” Beverly asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“No,” Bill shook his head, “Suh-someone was going to be m-my first, you k-know? I’m glad it was y-you.”

“What about Stan, though?” 

Bill looked back at their group of friends, finding curly hair and perfect posture in a second. He smiled and brushed his teeth over his lower lip to quell it. Looking back at Beverly, he shrugged, “Stan knows. I-I don’t keep th-things from him and if anything, b-being with you made me s-see how much I need h-him.”

Beverly smiled, following his gaze to the group and nodding, “I know what you mean.”

“Let me guess… Ben?”

She laughed and set a palm against her forehead, “Ugh, Bill, I like him _so much_! He’s just so sweet and comforting and good; he’s so good to me even when I’m not nice to him and he says—“ She stopped dead, blushing the color of a fire hydrant. "He says he loves me..."

Bill smirked at her and she narrowed her eyes, holding up a finger, “Do not give me that look! I know I’m screwed.”

“You’re n-not,” Bill shook his head, “Ben’s perfect for y-you. He liked you be-before I even did and h-he still likes you.”

“Unlike you,” Bev cocked an eyebrow and for a second Bill faltered, unsure of what to tell her. In the next second, Beverly was laughing, “God, don’t shit yourself, Bill! I don’t feel that way about you anymore, either. It’s okay!”

Bill relaxed and rolled his eyes at the shorter girl, glaring at her a little, “Bitch move.”

That only made her laugh harder. When she calmed down, she reached out to lace her fingers through Bill’s tugging him closer to her. He complied, raising an eyebrow at her in a silent question once he towered over her by only a few inches.

“I love you, Bill Denbrough,” She whispered into the warm summer night air, big blue eyes staring into his unflinchingly. “I think Ben might be my Always… But you’re my Almost.”

Without her having to say a single other word, Bill knew exactly what she was saying because he loved her too. He loved her so much it hurt when he thought about it too hard. He loved her laugh and her smell and the way she always came along and brightened cloudy days. He loved her soft skin, baby blue eyes, and her beautiful heart… 

But he wasn’t in love with her. 

He had never been and he never would be.

Things might have been different if she hadn’t had to leave when they were 13. Maybe if they’d had time to cultivate the _like_ into _love_ things would have been different. Maybe Bill would still be standing here under the moon with her but maybe he’d be in love with her.

His thoughts drifted back, as they always did, to Stan… He was glad things weren’t different. They were meant to be how they were now. Bill belonged with Stan and Beverly belonged with Ben; that didn’t have to mean he and Bev couldn't care fiercely for each other though.

Beverly was the first person he’d ever had genuine, strong feelings for.

Beverly was one of his very best friends in the whole world.

Bill knew he would carry her in his heart for the rest of his life. It was l ike Beverly had said herself; Stan was his Always but she was his Almost.

So, he squeezed her hand back and leaned down to kiss her warm cheek. Beverly was always so warm.

“I l-love you, too, Beverly M-Marsh.”

**Author's Note:**

> How would you guys feel about a follow-up chapter with Bill and Beverly having a little discussion about closure and their boys?


End file.
